


Cool Down

by samithemunchkin



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Formula 1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samithemunchkin/pseuds/samithemunchkin
Summary: Gideon just wants to cool down after a shitty race.





	Cool Down

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello, I haven't written anything in 84 years, don't know where the hell this came from but have some Gideon as a Formula 1 driver? And Mitchell’s there too? I dunno, I have a lot of F1 feels but for some reason this AU seemed like a better idea than writing about any actual driver.

Gideon was absolutely exhausted as he slowly pulled his car in the parc fermé area and parked it in the line that had already formed there. For a while he just sat there, staring into nothing. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the circuit, he wasn’t in the mood to go through the shitshow of a race he just finished with the team, much less with the vultures waiting in the media pen.

He was hot and dehydrated and sore, all he wanted was a cold shower, a gallon of electrolyte drinks and to sleep until his flight back home the next day.

And maybe a massage from his trainer, he could sacrifice some sleep for that, he thought as he cursed softly when his muscles ached when he shakily climbed out of his car. At that particular moment he also really wasn’t a big fan of the halo, fucking thing nearly made him trip and fall on his face.

“Fuck me...” he growled under his helmet

He hated everything about everything.

He nodded his head at the team personnel who started gathering around his car to plugin in monitors and coolers into it and Gideon threw one last glance at it, silently wishing he could have smashed the fucking piece of shit with a sledgehammer instead of just walking away.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Mitchell asked as he quickly looked the shorter man over, who was physically shaking.

“Yeah...yeah, ‘m alright, just wanna get the fuck out of here.” Gideon grunted, not bothering with his helmet just yet as he started making his way towards the weighing room, he really just wanted to get the formalities out of the way as quickly as possible.

~***~***~

“Yeah it...it really wasn’t my day, let’s just put it like that.” Gideon deadpanned and nodded briefly to the reporter as a sign that that was as much information they were going to get out of him. Then he glanced pleadingly at the team’s PR officer standing next to him, hadn’t he answered enough stupid questions?

“Gideon! Gideon hey, hi!”

Of course not.

The PR officer just smiled at him and pointed at the insistent reporter and Gideon actually had to bite his cheek and close his eyes for a few seconds, _“breathe and count to five, it’s not her fault, she’s just doing her job, so is everyone else…”_. When he opened them again, he gave her a quick attempt at a smile before he moved to stand in front of the reporter.

“Wow, what a really unfortunate race for you, or even...rather an unfortunate weekend you could even say.” The woman started and oh how Gideon really had to control himself from rolling his eyes. _“No fucking shit...”_ He thought to himself and focused on sipping from his water bottle.

“With the penalty from yesterday, starting from the pits and still having fought your way all the way up to the podium only to have your teammate cause you a puncture how...how does that make you feel? Knowing none of it was an error on your part, it must be frustrating.”

Gideon could hear the PR office curse next to him, he could see the reporter grimace and actually shrink back and briefly he mused if the snap was actually audible as his patience ran out.

“Frustrating? Frustrating is putting it fucking lightly.” He started, his voice staying surprisingly calm. He guessed it was his eyes that were murderous. “Fucking pissed off is how it feels and answering these kinds of pointless fucking questions is a waste of everyone’s god damn time. So, if you have more of them, or any other of the same fucking questions you seem to ask every goddamn fucking time, I think we’re done here.” His voice might have raised as he went on but honestly at that moment he didn’t care. With a final glare at the reporter he took off, not waiting for the PR officer to follow as he guessed she had some damage control to do.

Damned the consequences, he was done here, fuck the team briefing, there was nothing constructive or positive he could have said from the entire weekend anyway and he wasn’t particularly eager to see his team mate either.

A few thousand or five seemed like a small price to pay to keep the remaining of his sanity. He just wanted some peace and quiet to cool down, both physically and mentally.


End file.
